


To the Gates of Death and Beyond

by ptyx



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Dark Comedy, First Time, M/M, Mild Fantasy BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-07
Updated: 2004-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptyx/pseuds/ptyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry returns to Grimmauld Place. Is he a necrophiliac? Is Snape capable of satisfying him? How can a relationship be built upon hate and delusion?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. By a Route Obscure and Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by Morgan D. and Teka Lynn.
> 
> WARNINGS: Mild fantasy BDSM, suggestions of necrophilia and some blood.

**CHAPTER 1 - By a Route Obscure and Lonely**

Against everybody's advice, Harry had decided to spend the last month of his holidays at number 12, Grimmauld Place. He was still very shaken by Sirius's death and wanted to be alone. Having inherited the place, he had decided to face its spookiness and take possession of his estate.

Kreacher wasn't there anymore. Kingsley had cast a Memory Charm on him and he had been sent to a shelter for house-elves. Buckbeak had been clandestinely sent to Romania, where he would live under Charlie's care. Harry had given permission to the Order to continue to use the house as headquarters, but after Sirius's death the house remained almost always empty.

Aside the absence of Sirius, Kreacher and Buckbeak, nothing had changed in that house at Grimmauld Place. The same worn stone steps, the decayed black doors, the darkness. Once again, Harry had felt the rotting smell of the derelict building and heard the characteristic hissing of the gas lamps casting a flickering pale light over the gloomy hallway. He had gone through the entire house, room by room, trying not to make noises that might wake Mrs Black's portrait. He had spent all day cleaning and reorganising the place. At the end of the day, exhausted, he had prepared his supper. All this work had been done the Muggle way, because he still wasn't allowed to perform magic during the summer!

After finishing his supper, he started up the dark staircase, passing the row of shrunken house-elves' heads mounted on plaques on the wall. After reaching the second floor, he crossed the dingy landing, turned the serpent's-head doorknob, and opened the door to his bedroom.

He lay on the twin bed. Sleep was elusive, though. The emptiness in his heart overwhelmed him. Nothing made sense in his life anymore. It was terrible to think that only now that Sirius was dead Harry had understood how much he loved him. While his godfather had been alive, all the worries that surrounded them had prevented Harry from seeing how important Sirius was in his life, how he was a contact point between Harry's remote past with his parents and his present, and also everything that Sirius could have represented to him - someone who could have given him everything he had never had: a family, a home, someone to count on, someone who would always be there for him, in the good and bad times.

He finally fell asleep. But the sombre thoughts slithered into his dreams and kept haunting him. He dreamed of Sirius standing in front of him. Sirius was so beautiful, even pale as he was now, and with his hair lacking the lustre and lushness it had once had. Harry reached out to touch his hair, then his face. Sirius smiled. A soft touch, a faint smile... Then, when Harry tried to embrace him, Sirius disappeared behind the veil. In a gesture of despair, Harry ended up himself crossing to the other side and falling in a vertiginous abyss.

He sat up on the bed, all sweaty. There was no point in trying to sleep again after those nightmares; he had tried it many times before and had failed. It was 4 AM. His throat was dry. He dragged himself to the door, and then started down the stairs, step by step. However much he tried not to make a noise, the floorboards creaked below his feet. When he reached the first landing, he caught sight of a light coming through the kitchen door. He was sure he had turned all the lights off! Then he decided to go back to his bedroom and get his wand. He wouldn't be caught unguarded.

Going down the stairs again, he approached the door cautiously, holding his wand out in front of him, and peered into the kitchen - a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Severus Snape was sitting at the long table, tranquilly sipping his tea - if it was possible to use these two words, "Snape" and "tranquilly", in the same sentence.

"Potter."

"What are you doing here? Who gave you permission?"

"I'm a member of the Order. I have no need of your permission to come here. If you don't want the Order to hold its meetings at your precious haunted mansion..."

"The next Order meeting is only at six o'clock, two hours from now. You have permission to come here only at the meetings. You can't go in and out as you please!"

"This place is the headquarters of a secret organisation, Mr. Potter. We cannot always choose the occasions and circumstances. The headquarters must be permanently available to all the Order members."

"This problem is yours to solve. Dumbledore may trust you, but I don't. You were and will always be a Death Eater. You're guilty of my godfather's death. I'll never forgive you for this. You should be dead, not him!"

Snape's natural paleness was accentuated to a morbid degree. An artery pulsed in his temple, and he got up.

"Potter, we both know very well who is truly responsible for your godfather's death."

Trembling, Harry held his wand with all the force he was capable of.

Snape got his wand out and went on, in his lowest and most menacing tone.  
"Notwithstanding, you have no courage to admit your errors and recognise the truth. You prefer to throw the blame on those who don't spend their lives bowing at your feet, fawning upon you. The truth is that you are to be blamed for Black's death. You are a coward, of the worst stripe."

"You..." Harry couldn't speak anymore. The hate he felt for Snape overwhelmed him. Harry lost it completely. "Crucio!"

Snape held up his wand to defend himself, but Harry's curse had no effect at all. A furious gleam reflected in the black eyes. "Crucio!"

Harry contorted himself, kicking and twisting and screaming. The last thing he was aware of before falling was Snape's concerned expression and these words, which didn't seem to make any sense to his mind, "Finite Incantatem!"

~*~*~

The world was spinning round quickly in his head.

"Potter."

"Hm."

"Get up. I'll give you a potion to help you recover."

Snape helped him to get up, holding him by the crook of his arms. Sitting again on the chair, he took the boy on his lap. He produced a flask from within his robe and brought it to Harry's lips. The boy opened them mechanically.

Still on Snape's lap, Harry began to recover consciousness. "What..."

"Soon you'll be well again. Don't worry."

"Do you..."

"Don't speak, don't think. Stay calm. Can you sit by yourself?"

Harry nodded, looking at the older wizard. It was so strange, being on Snape's lap. How could it have happened? Now he remembered the entire scene, but nothing seemed to make sense. Especially the worried expression on Snape's face.

Snape helped him to sit down on the chair perpendicular to the one on which he sat himself. Then he served Harry a cup of tea.

"Drink."

"I don't want to."

The professor opened a cupboard and took a chocolate frog from a cornucopia that was full of sweets - Dumbledore made a point of having an endless supply of sweets in the kitchen of the Order's headquarters. "Drink the tea and eat the chocolate. It will do you good."

Without enthusiasm but resigned, Harry obeyed. A terrible silence followed. Overcome by the effect of Cruciatus, Harry noticed that Snape didn't take his eyes off him, clinically checking him over at every second.

"You're right, I'm an idiot. I can't even cast a bloody Unforgivable."

For a long instant, Snape didn't say a word. Then he sighed. "If you intend to cast a real Cruciatus, you will have to learn the process without Dumbledore's cognisance."

"But who would teach me? Moody? Lupin? They would never betray Dumbledore's trust."

"I can teach you."

"You? But you hate me as much as I hate you!"

"This hate that you profess can be transformed into a powerful weapon. We can use it as a tool in order to accomplish the task with the required celerity."

"What 'required celerity'?"

"Before the beginning of the term. Surely you don't think that I would be able to teach you the Unforgivables at Hogwarts, do you?"

"Are you serious? Why would you do it?"

"Because I would like to see the Dark Lord defeated?"

"I don't trust you."

"Potter, don't be such a fool! If I intended to kill you, do you think I would have been so incompetent? You think I wouldn't have succeeded in these five years? Five years during which you have been taking the potions I have concocted personally? If my intention was to kill you, that Cruciatus of a minute ago would have been much more painful and prolonged..."

Harry swallowed, dry-mouthed. He remembered all the hate he felt for the professor but, at that moment, he couldn't feel anything besides a strong dizziness. Snape opened the cupboard again and took another chocolate frog.

"Eat some more chocolate, Potter. And do me a favour: don't even think about casting another Unforgivable. First, you must recover your strength."

Harry swallowed the frog in one gulp, and drank all the remaining tea to force it down his throat.

Snape spoke in a calm, velvet tone, "There will be no risk. I would not expose Dumbledore's Golden Boy to danger. I will not duel with you. After all, you are not allowed to do magic during the holidays. I will only teach you to focus your hate. There are very effective techniques in which I'm proficient."

"When and where would you teach me?"

"Why not at this very place? I'm on holiday, as you know. I have to cope with some routine Potions requests, but I still have plenty of free time. I could come here every afternoon."

"I don't like this, but I don't have much choice in the matter. I'll give you a go. But don't try anything funny or I'll..."

"You are not in a position to threaten me, are you, Mr Potter?"

Harry bit his lower lip, trying to control himself.


	2. The Mystery Which Binds Me Still

**CHAPTER 2 - The Mystery Which Binds Me Still**

The next afternoon, precisely at the appointed hour, Snape arrived for their first lesson. After inspecting all the rooms in the mansion, Snape chose a living room on the first floor with a semicircular sofa and a low coffee table with a solid sycamore frame and glass top.

"If we're going to duel here, we'll have to move this table to a corner, otherwise there won't be room enough," Harry commented.

"I have already told you that we are not going to duel. Don't forget you must not perform any magic during your holidays. If your Cruciatus had not failed yesterday, you would have been in trouble now."

"Well, but you would have been dead."

"As much as the idea may seem alluring to you, the chances of its occurrence have always been very scarce. But there's no purpose in pursuing this line of reasoning, Mr Potter. Sit down". Snape gestured towards the sofa. They sat at an angle to each other on the circular sofa. Snape slipped his hand inside his robe and produced a flask. "The first lesson should not pose significant difficulties, even for a dunderhead like you. This potion will help you to focus on a subconscious image. You must drink all the contents of the flask. I'll use Legilimency as a means to help you."

Harry paled. He took the flask with a slightly trembling hand, opened it and, closing his eyes, drank the potion.

"What is this 'subconscious image' thing?"

"Soon you will understand. Very well, Mr. Potter. You hate me. Focus on your hate. Can you imagine a way to attack me, to torture me? Surely, you have already imagined this sometimes, haven't you? How would it be, if you had me in your hands? If you could have your way with me, if you could vent on me all the hate you feel?"

Harry recalled the image he had visualised some days after the fake-Moody had taught them the Unforgivables, when Snape had pretended to ignore that Hermione needed to go to the infirmary because of the spell Draco had cast to make her teeth grow. He had imagined Snape under Cruciatus, flat on his back like fake-Moody's spider, jerking and twitching.

Suddenly, the image came true. Snape, on the ground, began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side, screaming agonisingly. Harry watched it with surprise and a subtle, perverted pleasure. Then Snape started to shudder and jerk more violently.

Harry buried his head in his hands, in utmost shock and then ran away from the room. Once on the landing, he threw up. Mrs Black began to shout, "Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers!"

Snape went out, his robe billowing behind him, marched down the stairs and managed to push the lady of the portrait back and close the curtains over her. Then he approached Harry, who had stopped vomiting.

"What is it, Potter? Was the scene too strong for your delicate sensibilities?" the professor asked sardonically, before casting a cleaning spell over the place.

"Spare me your sarcasm. It was horrible! I don't want to learn this."

"You did rather well, for a first lesson. Next time it will be easier."

"Easier! How can you be so cold? How can you teach someone something so horrible?"

"Potter, we are facing a war. And you know very well the content of the prophecy. It's kill or die, there's no other possible alternative."

Harry entered the living room again and slumped on the sofa. "I won't do it a second time."

Following him, Snape approached the boy, looming over him. "In case you are worried about my integrity, I assure you that not a hair on my head was touched. It was only a fantasy. Nothing happened to me. It's only a learning tool, to help you focus on an intense and negative emotion like hate and pave the way to learning the Cruciatus."

"I don't want to cast Cruciatus over anyone."

"Perhaps it won't be really necessary to cast it, but you should learn how to do it. We are talking about a war against the Dark Lord, Potter."

Harry stood in silence, not knowing how to argue. Snape took a deep breath and sat down on the sofa.

"Guilt has no place here, Potter. The fantasy induced by the potion is a subconscious one. It doesn't mean that consciously you would want it to come true. With this potion, the conscious mind loses control over the unconscious."

After a brief pause, he added, "I assure you that next time it will be easier."

~*~*~

When Snape arrived for the second lesson, Harry followed him to the living room on the first floor. As soon as they had entered, Harry said, in a constrained polite tone, "I've thought about it for a long time since yesterday and I've decided that I won't continue these lessons. I appreciate your effort, but I'm not interested."

"Sit down, Potter". They sat down on the sofa just like the day before. Snape stared at Harry. "Look, I admit the first lesson was a little... intimidating. Perhaps I have overestimated you."

Harry grimaced, his features contorting in an almost childish gesture. A dark brow arched in response.

"We can adopt a less... drastic method", suggested the professor.

"Why are you so determined to teach me? I can't understand you."

"I have already explained it, but you insist on not listening to a word I say... Now let's talk about what matters." Snape took two flasks from inside his robe and handed one of them to Harry. "Drink it all."

"Not before you tell me what you'll do this time."

"If I tell you, it won't produce the intended effect. I only assure you that... this time there will be no physical violence involved... At least not in the same degree as yesterday. And I will drink the potion too." Snape took the other flask, opened it and drank all its contents. "So you won't be afraid that I might be poisoning you."

Harry didn't feel more tranquil in any way. After all, what guarantee did he have that Snape had drunk the same potion he had given him? But Snape's presence was so intense, so imposing, that he finally obeyed.

"Very well. Now you're going to pay attention to what I say and obey me." Snape's voice was hypnotic. "Not because you are compelled to, but because that's what you want. You want to learn what I have to teach you. Now you're going to imagine that you..."

Snape's voice began to fade away, and Harry found himself on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. He was wearing the Gryffindor uniform. He was already mounted on his Firebolt, and hovering several inches off the ground. Suddenly, he glimpsed the Snitch near one of the goalposts and sped towards it. Approaching from the opposite side, at a vertiginous speed, Slytherin's seeker also launched himself towards the Snitch. It was... Snape! The surprise of seeing the professor as his adversary made him lose precious seconds, and Snape snatched the Snitch.

Suddenly, Harry was back in the living room on the first floor of number 12, Grimmauld Place, facing the triumphant smile of Severus Snape.

"What the hell..."

"You lost, Harry Potter. Slytherin won the Cup. I caught the Snitch", said Snape proudly.

"You cheated, you bastard! You created that setting!"

"Language, Potter. Admit that, this time, you lost. But I am a magnanimous person: I will give you another chance. This time, do not forget: it's on the hate you feel for me, on your desire to humiliate me that you should focus. It was not because I am a better athlete than yourself that I have caught the Snitch, but because I was more focused than you."

"Rubbish! You've taken advantage of my distraction, because I didn't know what was happening!"

"Don't be an idiot, boy! What I am trying to inculcate in your mind is that this is a battle of minds, not of physical fitness."

"Don't give me that! You've used me to make an old fantasy of yours come true. A very childish fantasy, by the way."

"Precisely. Your task now is to prevent me from humiliating you further."

Harry glared at him.

Harry lost again the second time. But on the third, Harry managed to defeat his professor and grabbed the Snitch.

"Don't count it as a great achievement, Potter. Somehow, although subconsciously, I wanted to lose. After all, if I am teaching you, you might as well learn something."

"Oh, great. Being a bad loser, you want to convince me that you've let me win."

"I don't have to endure your constant insults. There are limits to everything."

"All right... I'm sorry," huffed Harry, not quite sure why he was apologising.

Snape's brow furrowed. He stayed in silence for some time, then said, "Enough for today. It wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Well, I don't know what I have learned. After all, I already knew how to play Quidditch."

"Idiotic boy. What you have just done has nothing to do with playing Quidditch. Don't you understand?"

~*~*~

In the next class, the same ritual took place: Snape arrived and the two of them went to the living room and sat on the sofa; then they drank the potion. Snape spoke in the same hypnotic tone he had used the day before. "Now we will join our minds. I will try to force you to materialise my fantasy, and you will try to prevent me. This time, I will not use my voice to induce you, only the mental power. I am going to project a subconscious image that bears some relation to you, and this image will materialise before your eyes, unless you succeed in preventing it."

Suddenly, Harry found himself in the dungeons, chained and shackled by the wrists and ankles to a bed. Utterly naked. Through widened eyes, he saw an also thoroughly naked Snape approach him.

Snape took off Harry's glasses, placing them on the bedside table, and lay down over the boy.

"Call me Snivellus now, Potter!" he said, smirking. "Oh, if James could see us now! And Black! It's a shame they are dead. It would pleasure me to no end to see their expressions now. How they would be mortified to see me fucking their precious boy."

The older wizard pulled the boy's legs over his shoulders and, with a flick of his wand, pronounced the lubricant spell. He captured Harry's lips and began to suck his tongue, making him moan with desire. Then he pulled back a little, positioned his hard and swollen cock and began moving forward, penetrating him slowly. At first it felt uncomfortable, but soon enough Harry got used to the sensation and relaxed. Then Harry felt a sharp, excruciating pang of pleasure when Snape, now completely inside him, hit his prostate. Harry groaned, and Snape grabbed his bottom and pulled him against his body, making him grasp the sheets tightly. The rhythm set by Snape became faster and frantic. All the time, nevertheless, Snape took care not to hurt him.

When they were on the verge of climaxing, Snape sank his teeth into Harry's neck, and sucked it fiercely. Harry squirmed in pleasure. Then Snape offered his neck to his lover's mouth. "Bite, Harry, and suck with all your might."

Harry obeyed, and saw the blood flow out, hot, throbbing, over Snape's neck and chest.

"Sev... It's so good..."

"Harry... Come for me..."

Snape's words made the latest barriers crumble and Harry let himself climax in engulfing waves. With a glimmer of fascination in his eyes, Snape watched his lover shuddering over and over again before exploding in ecstasy too.

Panting, the two wizards found themselves back in the living room of the mansion at Grimmauld Place. For a brief instant, they gazed at each other. But soon they averted their eyes. Snape buried his face in his hands, silently. Then he got up and began to pace the room in circles.

"I... Potter... I could apologise, but I know it would be pointless. From now on, consider your lessons terminated." With a defeated expression, Snape ran his hands through his hair. "I have no doubt that you will report this event to the Headmaster. I know I will be sacked and I won't blame you for that. What I have done has neither excuse nor explanation."

Utterly confused and not knowing what to think, Harry finally looked at Snape. "But... it was only a fantasy. Nobody can be punished for a fantasy!"

"I am your professor, and I should not indulge in..."

"But you've said the potion activates the subconscious mind, and that we can't control the fantasy consciously."

"How can I face you now?"

Harry looked down, for he wasn't able to face Snape either. "Okay, but that's another problem. It has nothing to do with Dumbledore. This is something between you and me."

"Are you implying that you don't plan to tell the Headmaster?"

"Yes, I am. I won't tell him."

"Potter, you should ponder deeply over this question. Don't make a hasty decision."

"Look, it won't be me who's going to punish you for what has happened. By the way, nothing has happened!"

"That's not the way I envision it."

"But listen, you have said yourself that the potion helps to make subconscious fantasies come true, but that it doesn't mean that the person really wanted to do it consciously. You said so yourself. That it wasn't like the Mirror of Erised."

"Why are you trying to excuse my behaviour?"

"What behaviour? You haven't *done* anything! It was only a fantasy! Against which, by the way, I didn't fight..."

Snape glared at him. His normally pale face was flushed. "Anyway, I cannot teach you these lessons anymore."

Harry also felt himself blushing. "Hadn't you... hadn't you expected something like this to happen?"

"Of course not, Potter. What do you think I am? A monster?"

"I know how embarrassing this is... I can't accept all that has happened in the fantasy too... But... Why do you feel so guilty? What do you think you have done wrong?"

"Can't you see? Must I really answer this? And they say Slytherins don't have ethics!"

"I don't know why you're having this guilt trip. I can understand that it's embarrassing for you that now I know about this fantasy of yours, just as it is embarrassing for me that you know that I didn't fight against it. But I don't understand why you think it's wrong."

"You don't understand? So either there's really a big void inside that thick skull of yours, or your morality is shallower than the Dark Lord's. Let's see if I can... talk any sense into you. I am your professor. I am responsible for your education and safety. And I deserve to be respected as such. Well, when a person with this responsibility is seen doing what I have done in the fantasy you have just witnessed, it all falls to pieces."

"I repeat, it was only a fantasy. And, even in the fantasy, you haven't put my safety at risk."

"What a dignified example is this; a professor that not only has sex with his student, but does it with the student chained!"

"But I wanted to be chained! Nothing you have done was against my will!"

Snape narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "You're not in your right mind. Tomorrow you will awake and feel ashamed, nauseated by all you have witnessed. You will loathe me even more, and you will tell everything to Dumbledore. Now let me go. I would like never to see you again, but I do not believe destiny will be so merciful to me."

~*~*~

How had that happened? Snape could not accept it. The effect of the potions should have helped him to materialise an unconscious fantasy. He had focused on Potter, on his own desire to... get revenge from James... to humiliate James's son, the Golden Boy... to dominate him?

It was not possible to exert any control over the fantasy, except through an intense emotion. Like hate. That had been the idea. Hate would have guided the fantasy, and they would have waged a mental battle for control. However, what had happened was something utterly unforeseeable.

Well, surely unforeseen, but maybe not unforeseeable. After all, there was nothing strange in the fact that the hate had assumed a sexual form. Severus had to admit that there was nothing strange in that. The fact that he had never consciously admitted any sexual desire for Harry Potter had prevented him from foreseeing that development.

And the fantasy had gone so far as to involve... blood. Severus could not indulge in something like that.

If at least the boy had reacted! _That_ was disturbing, too. Why hadn't Potter reacted? Perhaps, unconsciously, the boy yearned to be dominated that way. He recalled the scenes from Harry's childhood that he had witnessed during the Occlumency lessons. Yes, Harry had been abused, just like himself. It wasn't hard to imagine that the boy hadn't been... damaged somehow.

And that made him feel guiltier yet. He, who should have been an example to his student, had subjected him to ghastly treatment.

But the worst thing of all was that he couldn't stop remembering the scene. A shudder of pleasure ran through his body and made his cock stir irrepressibly every time he relived it.

_Severus Snape, you are a perverted man. You ARE a monster after all._

~*~*~

_I shouldn't keep thinking about that all the time,_ said Harry to himself. _That's not normal. He hates me. He only has this fantasy because he wants to humiliate me._

His hard cock once again in his hands, and in his mind the same images: Snape's lips crushing his in a fiery kiss, Snape's cock inside him, Snape's hands pumping his cock. Then, once more, the physical relief, the sperm and the hot blood engulfing him. Afterwards, that feeling of hollowness, of the futility of everything. And more: the strange feeling of not recognising himself.

_I don't want this. I can't want this._


	3. How the Danger Sinks and Swells

**CHAPTER 3 - How the Danger Sinks and Swells**

A week had passed. Harry remained at Grimmauld Place. He was already accustomed to the silence, the loneliness and the sombre mood of the place. There was an Order meeting set for that morning. Dumbledore, a morning person, had scheduled the meeting for 6 AM. Harry usually didn't wake up so early. Then again, it was not up to him to do the honours for the Order's members. He had never thought of himself in this role. He only lent the house for the meetings, nothing else. The truth was that he had no desire to talk to anyone.

Harry woke up at 8 AM and began to go downstairs. As the meetings took place in the kitchen, he would have to interrupt them to take his tea. Would they stop talking when he entered? It was so annoying that, although he was the one destined to defeat Voldemort, they wouldn't let him participate in the meetings because he was too young.

However, when he entered the kitchen he found only Mundungus Fletcher.

"Mundungus? Where are the others? Is the meeting already over?"

"'arry, I stayed 'ere to warn you: Snape 'asn't come back from the Death Eaters' meetin'."

Harry froze. "What do you mean, hasn't come back?"

"See, 'e should 'ave returned to 'ogwarts or come right 'ere, but... no sign of 'im till now. Nobody knows where 'e's. Blimey, it's never 'appened before. Dumbledore's sent people everywhere to search for 'im. Dumbledore is in 'ogwarts now, commandin' the search."

"But nobody knows where the Death Eaters meeting was?"

"Nope. Them Death Eaters 'ave many meetin' points, and they split into cells when they need, and nobody knows where each cell will go. Snape 'as managed to map some o' them meetin' points, but not all o' them. They 'ave wards and they use some spells like the Fidelius Charm, you know."

Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to keep his mind. "I want to help in the search! Where could I go?"

"I'm sorry, lad, best stay outta this. It's too dangerous."

"I DON'T WANT TO BE A DEAD WEIGHT! DO YOU WANT TO DO WITH ME THE SAME YOU DID WITH MY PARENTS? THE SAME YOU DID WITH SIRIUS? LET ME OUT OF THE GAME UNTIL I LOSE CONTROL? OR UNTIL I WATCH MY OWN DEATH QUIETLY?"

"Blimey, 'arry, take it easy. I dunno where you could go. People don't tell these things to me. They don't tell me nothin' really big."

"Then I'm going to talk to Dumbledore. Have you got Floo powder?"

With a worried expression, Mundungus fumbled in his pockets, took out a little package and gave it to Harry, who threw the Floo powder into the fireplace. "Albus Dumbledore's office!"

Harry's head hurtled through the emerald fire and appeared at the Headmaster's office.

"Oh, hello, Harry. Any news about Severus?"

"No, Headmaster. Please, I would like to help in the searches."

"Harry, it would not be prudent. You are not allowed to do magic on your holidays. But don't worry: all the significant places have been covered."

"Headmaster, I don't want to stay here doing nothing!"

"You can centralise information at the headquarters. This will set Mundungus free for making the pub circuit, like only he can do. Sometimes, going from pub to pub, Mundungus gathers information that none of the other good spies can gather."

Furious, Harry pulled his head out of the fire without saying goodbye to the Headmaster. So he was reduced to sitting on the sidelines. He wasn't good for anything other than stay in the place of a drunken crook so he could play the spy.

Mundungus gave him more packages of Floo powder and went out. Harry kept pacing the house. He hadn't drunk his tea or eaten anything, but he couldn't even think of sitting at a table and eating while the Death Eaters might be torturing Snape. Or killing him. A shiver ran through his body.

If he believed in a God, or in gods... he would have prayed. Nonsense. Wizards don't pray. Up until that moment, he had never reflected upon these questions. He had never felt the need to pray. The truth is, he had never felt anything deeper for anybody. His parents must have loved him, but he had never known them. He liked his friends, but... he had never had any deeper feelings for them. And vice-versa, thought Harry, not without some bitterness. Well, maybe they had been good companions, perhaps even good friends, when they were younger. However, since the year before, their ways had begun to break apart. Ron had spent all year concerned only with his Quidditch problems; Hermione was always enthusiastic to give her opinions, or even to organise the action, but she had never really been interested in Harry's problems, she had never been truly warm. Neither Ron nor Hermione had tried to comfort him after Sirius's death and, if he were to be honest and admit the truth to himself, he must admit that he had not wanted their comfort. Yeah, he had never loved anyone, not even Sirius. At least not until... his death. Only after Sirius's death, Harry had begun to love him... Wasn't it strange? Wasn't it horrible? It was as if Harry could love only the dead. And Snape... Oh, no. He could not understand his own feelings, but he was sure of one thing: he couldn't lose Snape. Not now!

Harry went to the living-room bar and served himself a glass of Firewhisky. He had never drunk anything stronger than Butterbeer, but it seemed a good occasion to try it. During almost an hour, he paced the house, holding his glass. The despair grew with each passing minute. Nobody gave him any sign. Any news.

Gradually, the Firewhisky penetrated his veins, numbing him. He sat back in an armchair. Once more, a pale face appeared in his dreams, but it wasn't Sirius's anymore. It was Snape's. Harry shuddered. _No, you can't disappear behind the veil too!_

A sudden noise startled him, waking him up. He felt a presence behind him. Something subtle, but noticeable. He turned slowly and found Snape, with some cuts on his face and hands, a muddy robe and an exhausted expression.

A shining smile stamped itself on Harry's face before he launched himself in the professor's direction. Surprised, Snape retreated a little. Seeing him retreating, Harry wavered and, instead of throwing himself in Snape's arms, as seemed to be his first impulse, he only gripped them firmly, right beneath the shoulder.

Snape stared at him with wide eyes. For an instant, they stayed immobile and speechless. Finally, Harry released him, still smiling.

"I will go and tell Dumbledore you have arrived, so he can tell the others you're all right."

"Is the meeting already over? Oh, it must be very late, I see. I have lost track of time."

"Everybody's out looking for you."

"Indeed? What a bunch of incompetents!"

Harry shook his head. "I will talk to Dumbledore."

They went to the kitchen and threw Floo powder into the fireplace to contact Dumbledore.

Albus seemed relieved to know that Severus was safe. "What has happened, Severus?"

"The Aurors conducted a blitz on my cell. The Death Eaters countered and a battle ensued. The Aurors besieged the area and cast wards so we could not Apparate. What could I have done? I tried to hide from both sides. The meeting point of the cell was located in the middle of the Umber Forest. I ran to the forest and hid. When things calmed down, I came to Grimmauld Place."

"My boy, you gave me quite a fright. Do you have significant information to share with us?"

"Extremely significant, Albus."

"Then let us reschedule the meeting that was to be held this morning to this evening. Let's say... at 6 PM. Stay at Grimmauld Place and take a nap. Harry will give you a room."

"Headmaster, I would like to return to Hogwarts," Snape protested.

"I can see that you are exhausted. Stay there and get a rest. See you later, my boys."

"Damn him," cursed Snape when both their heads reappeared in the kitchen.

The two wizards stared at each other for a long time.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Potter? You are not drunk, are you?"

"I had a glass or two of Firewhisky, but I'm all right. I was so scared... I... I couldn't stand the idea of having to live without your hate."

A dark eyebrow arched up. "Potter, this IS weird. St. Mungo is waiting for you with arms wide open."

"I know. But you wouldn't hand me over, would you?

Snape only shook his head, drained.

"Come on. I'll let you choose one of the bedrooms," said Harry.

The bedroom Snape chose was the one the twins had occupied during the house decontamination, the year before. Amused, Harry thought that if Snape came to learn that, he would be positive that there was a humungous dungbomb concealed somewhere within the room.

Harry gave him a towel and a bed-set, showed him the nearest bathroom and went to take his belated breakfast.

~*~*~

By 4 PM, Snape showed up in the kitchen. Harry greeted him.

"Oh, hello. You never take your meals here, but you must be starving. Would you like to have lunch or tea?"

"Both," answered Snape, crossly. "I imagine your friends keep speculating about my motives for not taking meals with the others. What do they say?"

"You wouldn't want to hear that."

"Say it, Potter. I cannot take points from Gryffindor here, neither can I give you a detention."

"Well... Everybody says that this is because you're a vampire."

To Harry's surprise, a satisfied gleam sparkled in the black eyes. And the thin lips formed the classic smirk. "I hope you don't spoil their fun telling them the truth about me. Well, what did you make for lunch?"

"Er... at 4 PM you can't expect a freshly made lunch, can you? I can reheat what I had for lunch: lamb chops, ham pie and roasted potatoes. There's some salad left, too."

"Did you make all this Muggle style?" asked Snape, impressed.

"What else could I do? As you know, we don't have a house-elf here anymore, and I'm not allowed to do magic during holidays. I'm used to cooking. I always cooked for my aunt."

~*~*~

After lunch, Snape was having a cup of tea with sweets from Dumbledore's cornucopia, and Harry joined him.

"What is Voldemort up to now?" asked Harry.

"The Dark Lord, you mean."

"Whatever. You know who."

"You are not a member of the Order. This kind of information must be disclosed only during the Order's meetings. Or directly to Dumbledore."

For an instant, Harry was very angry. He considered threatening him somehow, just to make Snape lose his cool. After all, he hadn't told Dumbledore anything of what had happened during those clandestine classes he had taken with Snape, had he? Trembling, Harry lowered his head.

Snape stared at him, curious, and ran his hand through his hair - which, strangely, wasn't greasy at the moment. Perhaps because he had taken a shower before going to sleep and had kept away from any potions since then, thought Harry.

"The Dark Lord is planning to release Lucius Malfoy. At the end of September," said Snape, in a low voice.

Harry widened his eyes, more surprised by the fact that Snape revealed that to him than with the content of the disclosure. "Release him from Azkaban?"

"Naturally."

"And what can we do to stop him? Shall we alert Fudge?"

"It's not up to me to decide. It's up to the Order."

"And are you... going to take part of the... action?"

"Of course."

"With the Death Eaters."

"Wherever I can serve the Order best."

"But... This is very dangerous! It will be worse than today! You won't have a place to run to. You'll be caught in the crossfire. You can be killed by an Auror. How would they be able to identify you, with the mask?"

"Those are the inherent risks of the role I accepted to play in this war."

Harry got up, restless. "This is insane! Dumbledore cannot permit this!"

"Permit this? He's the brains of the organisation. This is the only attitude he can take now. You are very young, you don't know what a war is."

"Then I won't let you do this. Don't say that I want to play the hero and that I'm an idiot. I don't want anybody else dying in a war that, after all, is mine, isn't it? Everybody always say it's up to me to destroy Voldemort. Then I'm going there now and finish all this," yelled Harry, in a trembling voice, one step away from Snape.

The older wizard grabbed him by the shoulders. "Stay calm, Potter. You are an idiot and you always want to play the hero."

Harry tried to seem in control. But his eyes were red, revealing the intense emotions that assaulted him. Snape gazed at him, as if hypnotised.

"What... What is happening?" asked Snape, perplexed. "Why are you acting like that?"

"I... I told you already."

"That... 'you could not live without my hate anymore'. But what, in the name of Merlin, does that mean? If it's out of pity that you are acting this way, stop it. I don't need your pity."

"Pity? Why would anyone feel pity for you? You're so powerful!"

Snape stared at him, bewildered. "Then why?"

"Because I don't want you to die! Why is that so difficult to understand? I don't want anybody else to die because of me."

Snape shook his head. "Acting like that, you force me to expose myself. You are putting me at risk, don't you see?"

"No!"

"Potter, I will not die. I assure you that."

"How can you be sure of something like that?"

"Trust me."

The strangest thing of all was that he did trust him. Snape's tone was so sure, so firm, that Harry could not help believing. Incredible as it seemed.

~* ~* ~

_He's so beautiful, so powerful, and he doesn't know. What does he want with me? Oh, James, if only you could see the glow in his eyes when he looks at me! Yes, I would be willing to sleep with him just to see your expression, James!_

_That's so wrong. Harry Potter means only trouble, nothing else. So young, so full of magic. If I indulge myself in such madness, this will shatter me completely._


	4. That You Fancy Me Dead

**CHAPTER 4 - That You Fancy Me Dead**

In the following week, Harry had strange nightmares, always with Snape. Snape and his pale, cadaverous face, approaching him, touching him with his expert hands, embracing him and... burying his sharp fangs in Harry's neck. Harry would wake up sweating cold and feeling a deep void in his soul. Afterwards, during the day, he couldn't stop thinking of him.

However, he only saw Snape again when classes began, one week later.

This term, Harry would be taking Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology - he had managed to achieve an 'O' in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration and, surprisingly, in Potions; an 'E' in Charms, Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology.

The first Potions class was worse torture than ever. It was as if Snape and Harry were magnetised, as if there was a perceptible, touchable force field surrounding them.

~* ~* ~

_His eyes seem to hypnotise me. It's like in the vampire novels; he attracts me by his mere presence. I must find out why it is so. That's not normal._

~* ~* ~

The second class was even worse: the fact that Harry already expected those reactions made them more intense. At the end of the class, Harry decided things could not go on like that. If what he imagined was true - and the research he had been doing in the library during that week had led him to think it was - maybe Snape could be... persuaded. _The right word_, thought Harry with a guilty conscience, _would be "manipulated"_. After all, hadn't the Hat said that he had many Slytherin traits?

~* ~* ~

"You are a vampire," Harry declared, as soon as he could enter Snape's office and get rid of his invisibility cloak.

Surprise welled up in the depths of the black eyes for a brief instant. Then a sarcastic smile crossed the professor's lips. "This is a very old joke, and not amusing at all, Mr Potter."

"Codswallop. I am an idiot, but not that big an idiot. That fantasy... The blood... Do you know how many times I dreamed of you after that? And I dream I'm being transformed into a vampire too."

"You have seen me eating. You have seen me outdoors in the light of day many times. Even now, here, if you look at the mirror at your left, you will see my reflection."

"I don't care. I don't know how do you do these things, being a vampire, but I know that you are."

"So, there's nothing else to discuss, is there? Now get out."

"No!"

Snape grasped his shoulders firmly, about to drag him out, even if he had to use force to do it. But, as soon as he felt the teacher's hands over him, Harry threw himself into his arms. For a moment, Snape closed his eyes, unable to articulate one single word.

Finally, he could gather the strength to push the student away and to reprimand him, trying not to let himself be dominated by the mixed sensations and emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Potter! Have you gone mad?"

"Please..."

Snape pushed him into an armchair.

"Sit down and explain." Snape went to a cupboard and pulled out a Firewhisky bottle. He took two glasses and served the beverage. "Drink. Maybe you'll feel better." Then he sat on another armchair, at an angle from Harry's. "You are going through a difficult phase."

"Oh, don't tell me about teenagers and hormones, please!"

The professor's lips curved slightly, in a sneer. He refrained from mentioning the boy's propensity to systematically reject the expression of truth. After all, it wasn't the moment for a fight. First he had to make out what was passing through the boy's mind. "So, what's your explanation?"

"Er... You know, it's really difficult to explain. I never loved anyone. My parents must have loved me... I think so, because my mother died to save me. But I never knew them. I like my friends, but... the truth is I've never felt anything deeper for them. Even Sirius, I didn't really love him until... Only after he died I began to love him..."

"There's a name for it, Potter: necrophilia. You are a necrophiliac. You can love only the dead."

"All right, so I'm a necrophiliac. Now you can put a label on me and stock me among your nasty flasks. But how does it help me? What can I do?"

"Potter, it happens that I'm alive. I cannot give you what you want. If it is your desire, I can recommend you a graveyard..."

"Stop it! All this sarcasm won't get us anywhere, it will only make us waste time."

"At any rate, we are wasting our time. Your place is in St. Mungo's."

"Oh, sure. And yours? Where is the place for vampires?"

Snape hold his wand tightly, and Harry blanched.

"All right, forgive me," he murmured. "You make me lose it."

"For once and for all, boy: I'm not a vampire. If this was your romantic necrophiliac dream, you may as well forget it."

Harry lowered his eyes, clearly disappointed. Snape knew that he should send him away, that this was the best moment for that. But to see Harry Potter there, crestfallen, defeated, at his mercy... It was almost irresistible. "I have acquired a certain experience with regard to necrophiliacs," he whispered in a suggestive tone.

"I bet you have!"

"It is obvious that, since the human mind is an extremely complex component, we all, with no exception, have necrophiliac tendencies. However, in your case, I would be so bold as to say that the intensity of the tendencies that you are manifesting is not compatible with the mental structure of a Light wizard."

"Er... can you translate this for me, please?"

"Once again, I notice that my initial suspicion are confirmed. Dumbledore is wrong about you. You are not strictly a Light wizard."

"I'm not?"

"The greatest necrophiliac I have ever known - even you can guess - is the Dark Lord. I would risk to say that you manifest a necrophiliac potential similar to his, but at an embryonic state, spontaneous, not influenced by the Dark magic."

"Are you saying that I'm a Dark wizard?"

"Do not put words in my mouth. What I am saying is that you manifest strong tendencies to the dark arts. And don't make me say it again, Mr Potter."

"And so what? What should I do?"

"Soon you will have to choose the way that suits you best."

"Then it's black or white, nothing in between?"

"There are an infinite number of ways and nuances. Each one will choose his own. The choice will always be yours. But do not forget that one choice determines the next ones."

"There's no return?"

Snape sighed. "You can go back on your own steps, but there are certain marks that cannot be erased."

"But I... I don't want to follow Dumbledore's way. I don't trust him. He makes us his slaves. He forces you to keep spying for him. He's always treated me like a mere pawn in his game. He forced me to live with a Muggle family that despised the wizards. You know that. You saw it in the Occlumency lessons."

The professor nodded, staring at the student with deep curiosity. "And which way would you rather follow, I wonder?"

"I don't know! I wanted to be a vampire. I thought you were one of them. It would be perfect if you were!"

A dark eyebrow rose for an instant. But in no time the older wizard's features regained their inexpressiveness. "You don't have the least idea of what a vampire is, do you?"

"Oh, I wrote an essay for Lupin in my third year."

Snape snorted.

Harry went on, "And this week I've read everything I could find at the library. But there's a lot of contradictory information."

"This is not a joke, Potter. Needing blood every single night to survive. Having to live with the idea that you are a threat to the persons who live near you, that you may attack them and vampirise them. And have you ever imagined the loneliness, the isolation you feel when you know that you will live forever, and that you will see everything that surrounds you perish constantly?"

"That's how you feel, isn't it?"

"Don't speak nonsense!"

"If you were a vampire, and if you transformed me, we could be together."

For a brief second, Snape's chin dropped. "What... Are you raving? You are delirious, Potter! You'd better stop drinking that. You're not accustomed to Firewhisky."

"No, I'm not drunk. It's that I already feel as lonely as this vampire you're talking about. Nobody's in the same boat as I am, do you understand? Isn't there... uh... a potion that helps to control the vampirism symptoms, like the Wolfsbane for the werewolves?"

Severus got up suddenly and paced the sombre room. What was the boy talking about? Where had those ideas come from?

And Harry still went on. "If there was a potion like that, everything would be perfect. We would be immortals, and we would be able to control the symptoms. It would be the end of Voldemort. And we would have each other."

Snape tried to ignore the last part of Harry's speech. "Wolfsbane doesn't eliminate the symptoms; it only keeps the human mind conscious during the transformation." Snape arched an eyebrow. "Actually, the vampires are immortals, despite all the superstitions disseminated by the Christians saying otherwise. Nevertheless, there are ways to keep the vampire stuck in his animal form."

"So the vampires can really turn into bats? And there is a way to stop them from turning back to their human form?"

"Precisely."

"I wouldn't mind turning into a bat. It must be a wonderful sensation, to have all those new senses, and to be able to fly in the night skies, free..."

"Another romantic dream. You have no idea of the torture you must endure. When you transform, all your senses change in a short period of time. It's overwhelming."

"Aha! You talk like you know the subject very well... You lied to me. You ARE a vampire. Why don't you tell me? Why don't you give me a go?"

In that strange moment, everything seemed to acquire an element of unreality, of dream. Snape sat again on the armchair, less than a meter from Harry. His eyes were cloudy. "Wouldn't you feel repulsed by the presence of a creature like that?"

"No! Why do you say that? What's wrong with being a vampire?"

Snape lowered his head.

"Oh, I've gathered, all these Death Eaters' biases, this pure blood talk and all..." Harry had the distinct sensation he was making a typical Hermioneish speech. "They must think a vampire is an animal, a piece of trash. Do you believe in this crap?"

"It's not a question of believing or not. The prejudices are real. The Society imposes them on everyone."

"If you know this, why do you treat Lupin like that? Like he isn't a human being?"

Snape froze and glared daggers at him. "My relations with Lupin aren't in question."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned this. We were doing fine until now, weren't we? I want... I want to make a deal with you. Because, you know... if we had this potion, we would have the world under our thumbs!"

"'We'! What do you mean, 'we'?"

"You and I. You would give me immortality, and I would defeat Voldemort."

"You are insane, utterly insane!"

Harry got up and approached Snape's armchair. With a sudden movement, he sat on the older wizard's lap. Harry framed Severus's face between his hands and bent down to kiss him. Trembling, Snape grabbed him almost violently.

"Stop it! What do you want from me?"

"If you don't want, there's no need to use the shackles and the chains," answered Harry mischievously.

"It's not only that. It's this blood obsession of yours, that vampire tale..."

"Are you afraid that I might bite you?"

"You... wouldn't risk it, you wouldn't be so foolish, would you? If you have studied about vampires, you are aware that sometimes a single drop is sufficient to transform the person."

"So you're really a vampire! I knew it!"

"I was speaking hypothetically." Snape narrowed his eyes. "Anyway, you'd better go away. I would not participate in any little game of yours, do you understand?"

"What little game? What are you talking about? This is not a game to me. Now it's you who is being an idiot."

"I don't play mind games. Or mind-fucking, do you hear me?"

"Hmm?"

"And if the idea of making that stupid fantasy come true has passed through your foolish mind, you are very deluded."

"I've already said, there's no need to use the shackles."

The older wizard shook his head. "Also there won't be any blood involved in this."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not healthy to shed human blood this way, Mr Potter! Furthermore, I can assure you that I do not possess any fangs to transform you."

"Oh, I've read that the Ministry of Magic has a surgical procedure to remove the fangs from the vampires that don't want to live in the so-called 'vampire territories'. But I don't believe you would let them do this to you. I think that you've invented a potion to get rid of all the vampiric traits."

"You have created a whole story about me, haven't you? Would you please explain to me, then, how would I be able to transform you, since I do not have fangs?"

"If you stop taking the potion for a while, probably all the physical traits will come back."

"And why would I do that? If a teacher transforms a student, he will not go to Azkaban, he will be taken straight to the Dementor's kiss!"

"And if I signed a paper saying that I did it of my own free will?"

"You have not reached the age of consent, this paper wouldn't have any legal value."

"But there's an easier way! I was forgetting: if I bite you, you cannot be blamed."

"It depends. Either way, I would be charged and there would be a trial. And the Ministry staff is not very fond of me."

"But I am Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. They will believe me."

"Will they believe that I was a helpless victim? Many bites might be necessary for your transformation; it might take a long time. It varies from person to person. How would we explain that?"

Harry laid his head on Snape's chest, and whispered, "You don't understand. You keep putting up obstacles, but you don't see the whole picture, you don't understand the depth of my offer. I want to be with you... forever."

An intense warmth spread through the older wizard. Struggling to suppress his emotions, Snape grabbed Harry's shoulders in a strong grip. "You don't know anything, boy. You are a child, and you are playing with fire." An emotion similar to panic reflected in the usually inexpressive eyes. "For you, this is just another fantasy."

"If it's a fantasy, it's one of those that last forever," answered Harry, solemnly.

Snape gave a bitter smile.

"You are sixteen. You don't understand that life is only a long sequence of fantasies, and that 'forever' is an... absurd word. When I was sixteen, even I thought that some things would last forever". Snape lifted his arm, showing the Dark Mark.

"It might be as you say, but all that you've lived through, all your past, even as a Death Eater, is part of you now. And I respect the person you are now. Maybe you did wrong to decide to act on your fantasy when you were 16, but at least you went after what you wanted. Afterwards, you had the courage and the strength to return and, well, even if what you chose when you were 16 was wrong, these choices made you a... a stronger, a more resourceful person. And because of that, you managed to save many lives and you learned things that might save further lives."

"A touching speech. Very moving. If that's your desire, I can introduce you to the Dark Lord as a volunteer to join his ranks. But don't involve me in your delirious plans."

"All right, so I won't bite you."

Harry brought the teacher's arm to his lips, and laid a kiss over the Dark Mark. Snape shuddered. Harry lay back against Snape's chest and began to caress it through the robe. It was tantalizing, and got worse when Harry's thumb found a nipple. Snape felt himself hardening under his touch. Then the boy searched the older wizard's lips once again, and this time they opened to greet him. Tightening his arms around Snape, Harry pressed against his body, resting his hands on the teacher's back, smoothing the skin. As Harry's eager tongue penetrated Snape's mouth, the kiss became a passionate and wild exploration, sweet and tender at the same time. The way the boy was kissing him, claiming his mouth with unquestioned assurance, oh, it was too much. Snape moaned and closed his eyes. They clung to each other, bodies moulding to the embrace in their discovery of one another. Snape tangled his fingers into the boy's unruly hair.

They could have spent an eternity like this, kissing and kissing while sensation conquered them in a rush and replaced every thought with exquisite need. With a soft moan, Harry played with Snape's tongue, sucking on it. Snape's heartbeat grew faster and faster. He began to caress the boy's hips and buttocks. A shiver ran through his spine: he couldn't get enough of the boy.

Finally, Harry tore his lips away and whispered, "Let's go to the sofa, okay?"

Snape let himself be led to the wide Victorian sofa. Then, reluctant, he stared at Harry gravely. "Have you... done this before?"

"What?"

Snape glared at him, exasperated.

Harry deemed it more prudent to answer. "No. Only in your fantasy."

Snape grimaced in despair. But Harry had begun to amuse himself opening the buttons of the teacher's robes. In the middle of this long process, Harry kissed him once more. This time, a tender, reverent kiss. Surprised, Snape returned the kiss with the same tenderness.

"Oh... How I hate you," murmured Harry, with glazed eyes.

That shattered the last shred of Snape's self control. He pulled the boy to him and captured his lips in a searing kiss. The clothes began to fall piece by piece, thrown everywhere. Damn the buttons! At some time, Harry's glasses also left the scene; none of them would be able to say precisely how. They didn't stop touching, nuzzling, kissing the entire time. Arms and legs intertwined. Suddenly, the whole length of their naked bodies melted together, all the way down, skin to skin, with no more clothes to separate them. Both moaned at the same time.


	5. Darkness There, and Nothing More

**CHAPTER 5 - Darkness There, and Nothing More**

Harry tore himself away for a moment and gazed at his lover's body with eyes of worship. "So beautiful..."

"Beautiful? You are more short-sighted than I thought, Harry Potter," scoffed Snape, pulling the boy closer again.

How would Harry be able to explain it? Yes, Snape was too skinny, too pale - even sallow -, his body marked by scars. Moreover, the Dark Mark disfigured his left arm, adding a sinister touch to his figure. All right, then the word might not be "beautiful". But "attractive" wasn't it either. Not that Snape wasn't attractive. Especially with his cock so hard and fully erect... because of him. But that was another question. Er. What a mess. Better to think about that at another time, thought Harry. When Snape wasn't... oh... licking his ear lobe. Or running his tongue down his neck, tracing his clavicle and... mouthing one of his nipples.

Harry began to emit uncontrollable sounds, making the older wizard smirk. Wanting revenge, Harry grabbed the other wizard's bottom with both hands, and squeezed. Snape moaned and nearly, nearly plunged his teeth in his neck. That was a close shave. Then Snape devoted his attention to the other nipple, and Harry contorted himself, teetering at the edge of madness. "I won't last much longer," he warned his lover.

"Such impatience. Someone should give you a lesson on forbearance."

"You mean torture."

Snape looked around for his wand, with an expression of impatience. Then he sighed and summoned it.

"Hey, what are you doing?" protested Harry.

Snape lay at Harry's side, held him and rolled over, pulling him on top. Before Harry's astonished eyes, Severus put his legs around Harry's waist and chanted the lubricant spell. Next he encircled Harry's cock firmly and guided it to his tight entrance. He positioned Harry's cock with one hand and, with the other, he embraced the other wizard, pulling him towards his body.

"Go on, Potter."

"But I..."

"You don't want to do it that way?"

"It's not that! It's just that I've thought..."

"That I would have to be the top? This is sheer stupidity. Now do something, will you? Weren't you in a hurry?"

"I've never..."

"There's a first time for everything."

An image came to Harry's mind. "I will try to do as you did to me... in the fantasy. Without the chains and the shackles, I mean."

An intense gleam emerged in the depths of the black eyes. Then Harry lowered his eyes and gave the first thrust. It was almost impossible to bear, the sensation... He gave a deep breath, hoping to calm his racing pulse. But his heart kept on pounding faster and faster, and he needed to move. So he withdrew a little just to get the force to penetrate deeper. The sensation of wet heat closing around his cock was driving him crazy. When he could lift his face and look at Snape, the unreality of everything seemed to engulf him. He remained breathless and motionless for some time, with his eyes riveted upon his lover. Snape's chest, naked, panting, spread beneath him; his untamed black hair falling partially over the high and ghostly pale forehead; his eyes closed, and an expression of... complete abandon in his face. What a rapturous sight! A rush of emotions assaulted Harry: pride, passion, courage. Oh, Merlin, Severus was indeed very beautiful. And he was all his.

Harry withdrew and thrust once more, and felt Snape matching his thrusts. As he established a rhythm, his breath was getting heavier and heavier, and Snape's expression revealed a desire that was more and more intense. The boy bit his lip not to moan out loud.

"There's no need to restrain yourself. You may scream, if you want. I've sealed my quarters and cast a Silencing Charm. Nobody will listen," taunted Snape.

In the next thrust, Harry penetrated deeper, and moaned really louder. He was totally inside Snape. He closed his eyes for a brief instant. When he reopened them, he moaned once again seeing his lover staring into him, completely mesmerised, with eyes full of desire. Snape grabbed Harry's hips firmly and changed the angle slightly, guiding him to the right point. Hearing his lover's moans of pleasure, Harry set a harder rhythm, wanting to see him shudder, clench his nails on the sofa cover, moan still louder. Wanting to penetrate him to the core, till they became one. And as he watched his fantasy come true, when he was on the verge of losing contact with reality, he felt Snape's hand grasping his and guiding it to his cock, showing him how he wanted to be touched, the exact pressure, the rhythm. Fascinated by this new task and entirely focused on it, Harry was able to hold his climax until he saw Snape's body contract and pulsate, surrendering to pleasure. Then Harry snatched his wand, which he had deliberately left on the ground, near the sofa and, casting a spell, tore Snape's chest open. Harry plunged in the flowing blood, sucking as much as he could, and let himself be pulled inexorably into the vortex.

He fell on the sofa next to Snape, and pronounced a spell to close the cut on his lover's body and a cleaning spell. Then he tried to snuggle up to him. But Snape withdrew harshly, and got up.

"Get out of here."

Harry blinked, not believing what he was hearing, and sat on the sofa, while Snape put his clothes on. "What..."

"Get out!"

"Why are you doing this? What have I done?"

Snape finished dressing himself and crossed his arms in front of his chest, not saying a word. His expression seemed to epitomise hatred in its purest form.

"Do you think... do you think that I've used you?" asked Harry, bewildered.

Snape merely glared at him.

"Severus..."

It was the first time that the boy pronounced his name. Snape shuddered and turned his back on him.

"Severus, please! We've just made love. And there's a possibility that... you know... from now on, we can be together for all eternity!"

"Love? Eternity? You are utterly insane, Potter. What has happened here is called sex, and perfidy. And if you were transformed by your stupid act, this is your problem. In half an hour, the changes will begin, and I will not lift a finger to help you. You will be in hell, Harry Potter. And I don't give a damn, do you understand? I don't give a damn. Now go away!"

Slowly, with clouded eyes, Harry put his clothes on. Without saying a word, he left the teacher's office.

~*~*~

He didn't know where to go. The castle's sombre halls reflected his soul's darkness. He began to climb the stairs slowly, with leaden legs. He had to hide from everybody. Maybe in a few minutes the transformation would begin. And he didn't know what would happen. Finally, he had the idea to take refuge in the Room of Requirement, and he climbed to the seventh floor.

This time the Room of Requirement had white padded walls and was completely void. It was like a Muggle insane asylum cell. Yes, maybe that was precisely what he needed to avoid trying to kill himself.

To kill himself? But that was exactly the problem! He would never be able to get the release that only death could bring. Never more.

He sat at one of the Room's corners, on the stone floor. The certainty that the transformation would occur overcame him. His blood seemed to sparkle, to boil in his veins. He had chosen eternity thinking to bond his soul with another forever. He had attained immortality, but instead of the awaited union, he had found only rejection.

He felt his throat tighten. Eternal rejection. Was there a worse torment than that? How could he have been so mad! He would give anything to get back and recover his mortality! He couldn't stand it!

He folded his knees against his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Lowering his head, he rested it on his knees. So that was the way it would be. That was the beginning of his eternal torment.


	6. Come up through the Lair of the Lion

**CHAPTER 6 - Come up through the Lair of the Lion**

"Harry..."

Harry lifted his head and blinked. He must be dreaming. Severus Snape was there, in front of him, staring at him with a worried expression. It could only be a dream.

"Harry, are you all right?"

It wasn't a dream! Harry got up and staggered towards Snape, letting himself fall into his arms. "Severus... You're really here."

"Of course I am. Everybody has been looking for you since yesterday. A whole day has passed since you disappeared. We didn't know if you were here or not. The Room hasn't been letting anyone enter. Nonetheless, as you might see, it has let me..."

"Does that mean you were the only one that really needed me? Or maybe it was because you were the only person I wanted to see. " Harry embraced him fiercely. "Severus, please. Don't leave me alone anymore!"

"Harry, you must tell me what you want. I mean, besides my blood... my arse... and my loyalty... " he added, sardonically. "I don't know if I can give you what you want."

"I want your hate," said Harry, staring up at him with passionate eyes. "I know that I can count upon it. It's one of the few things I can count upon. Your hate gives meaning to my life."

A bitter smile flashed across the professor's face. "My hate. You want my hate. I think that... I can give you that!"

"But I don't want you to hate me because I'm James Potter's son. I'm not like my father. At least not like that jerk I saw in the Pensieve."

Snape made a hideous grimace. Then he sighed and relaxed a little, and gently brushed his lips over Harry's. "I don't hate you for being like James Potter anymore. Now I hate you for not being like James Potter. I hate you because you have misled me all this time, making me think you were like him. Now I hate you for being Harry Potter."

"Right, but it cannot be because I have this scar, because I defeated Voldemort when I was a baby and because that bloody prophecy says that I'm the only wizard that can defeat him for good. Because all these things have nothing to do with me. I wasn't responsible for any of that, I haven't chosen any of that."

Snape rubbed his finger slowly over Harry's scar, then stroked the boy's face with his knuckles. "I don't hate you for any of those factors anymore. Now I hate you because... because you don't let me breathe anymore, because you burn me. Because you will be my ruin. Oh, how I hate you, Harry Potter!"

The green eyes flared in red rays in the shadows as Harry said, "To the gates of death and beyond."

Snape paled. "Harry... We have a little problem here. I didn't lie to you. I am not a vampire. You haven't been transformed."

"Stop it! You know that it's not true! I can feel my blood boiling, and this is not a metaphor, nor my imagination!"

"Where are your fangs then? If you had been transformed, you would have fangs."

"It's not possible! It can't be an hallucination!"

"The pressure over you has been overwhelming, and you don't have anybody you can lean on, anybody to give you effective support. I'm afraid that Dumbledore has made some terrible mistakes regarding you. Harry, you are under great stress."

Harry got hold of Snape and stared at him with widened eyes, finally realising that the other wizard was telling the truth. "Then you... it was you who used me! You let me believe that you were a..."

Snape interrupted him, the vein at his temples throbbing. "Don't give me that! You put this idea into your head and the more I denied it, the more convinced you became of your outlandish theory."

"It was very clever of you! You kept on denying it, but in such a lame way that I had to think that your denial meant that that was the truth."

"Let's get out of here. You need to eat something and rest. Then you can think about everything and afterwards, if you want to discuss, or to argue with me, come to my quarters."

Defeated by exhaustion, Harry followed Snape, who led him to the stairs of the Gryffindor tower.


	7. My Duty, To Be Saved by Their Bright Light

**CHAPTER 7 - My Duty, _To Be Saved_ by Their Bright Light**

Two days later, after the curfew, Harry put his invisibility cloak on and went down to the dungeons. Snape invited him to sit on the same sofa where they had made love, served him a glass of Firewhisky and sat on the armchair facing the sofa.

"I don't know what to think anymore," Harry complained. "I don't even know what to call you. Who are you? What has really happened? You said you didn't play mind-fucking games, but if this is not mind-fucking, then I'm a Hufflepuff."

Snape dropped his eyes, in a very uncharacteristic gesture. "Nothing has changed. We still hate each other, as was your wish. And our life is still in the hands of Dumbledore and the Dark Lord. You and I are two sides of the same coin."

Suddenly enraged, Harry hit the glass on the coffee table, and perched on the sofa edge. "Stop beating around the bush! Tell me what you feel, what you want!"

Snape lifted his eyes to the younger wizard, surprised with his intensity. "What I feel? What I want? What can I say? I can see how powerful and complex your magic is. I can feel your power. As I told you before, there's more than light magic in you."

_I'm attracted to your magic like a moth to a flame_, thought Snape._ And I'll be burned by your fire._

"But I'm not a necrophiliac. I looked in the dictionary. I never wanted to... you know... with a cadaver."

"Are you sure? Not even in your dreams? You have a morbid fascination with death and the dead."

"Er, in my dreams? Look, I don't even know when I'm dreaming and when I'm being possessed or seeing what Voldemort is seeing." Harry shivered. "Anyway, you lied to me all the time, not only about that. Why?"

"I've never lied to you, aggravating boy." Snape shook his head. "You and your perfidious schemes. How did it feel, when it backfired?"

"You are a bastard!"

"Well, that's not exactly fresh news." Snape's lips curved in a bitter sneer. "When you were alone in that white room, facing the eternal torment, oh, perhaps you have sensed it... And yet you don't need to be a vampire to know that loneliness you might have felt, that isolation I've told you about... You don't need to be a vampire to know rejection. If it wasn't so difficult for you to imagine me as a vampire, probably it is because I resemble, if not a real vampire, at least the vampire of your romantic dreams... Unfortunately, there isn't a potion like the one you have imagined, that I know of. Your idea is, notwithstanding, brilliant. Since I heard it, I could not stop thinking about it. Those books you see over my desk... they are the beginning of my research."

"Do you mean... you think it's possible to create that potion?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea."

"And if you could do it, would you agree?"

"To be bitten by a vampire?" Snape asked, with a disgusted grimace.

"If you prefer, I could be the first. And then I would transform you," said Harry, standing up.

A flicker of smile showed on the professor's lips in reaction to the boy's enthusiasm. He stood up and stretched his hand to Harry. "It's a deal."

Instead of shaking Snape's hand, Harry held it between his own, and took it to his lips.

Snape gazed at him, fascinated. "Harry... you can count on my hate. It creeps through my veins and burns deeply into my soul."

Snape bent his head and their lips met - softly, tentatively at first, then with more urgency and desire -, in a kiss that was battle and surrender.

Finally, Harry retreated a little and smiled. "Severus, we will conquer eternity. Together."

Then Severus Snape bowed, in a deep reverence. "Yes, my Lord."

 

**The End**


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